There’s an odd dichotomy that comes with being transgender. On the one hand, I often feel like a teacher. There’s an assumption that I know more about gender theory than the average person and, for better or worse, there’s often an expectation that I educate others about my own identity, what it means to be trans and the struggles of my community. On the other hand, I often feel very much like a student, still trying to figure out things about my own body that other people have known since they were young.

My road to recovery from disordered eating hasn't been linear. During my process, there were several periods of time where I physically appeared 'stable' to my friends and family. However inside my mind lived a monster of nemesis thinking. These times, when physically recovered from the detrimental consequences, were some of the toughest times to navigate because I hadn't reached an emotional equilibrium or addressed any of the deeper seeded emotions that caused me to seek comfort in depriving myself of nutrients.

My family became a team of superheroes, battling some evil villain when I couldn’t myself. After a while I realized there was no getting around it, I had let my family in and now I couldn’t kick them out. I had to sit back and try to enjoy.

The clothing in my closet had to be organized and arranged in a systematic and precise way, divided by colours, texture, and seasons. The books on my shelves had to be sorted by author, subject and year. I would spend hours shaping my external environment to be meticulously spotless.

As long as I can remember, food has been a large part of my life. Growing up Italian, it was inevitable. What 10 year old me did not anticipate was that enjoying food would become something of the past, and a preoccupation with counting and control would become the thing of the future.

As long as I can remember, food has been a large part of my life. Growing up Italian, it was inevitable. What 10 year old me did not anticipate was that enjoying food would become something of the past, and a preoccupation with counting and control would become the thing of the future.

Too many people suffering from mental illness feel alone, embarrassed, and guilty because of the stigma attached to it. In honour of World Mental Health Day, I’m sharing my story to remind all those suffering that it’s okay not to be okay.

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